


Battery

by RotherhamMan



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Dark, Father/Son Incest, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Hand Jobs, Immortality, Incest, M/M, Milking, Paralysis, Prostate Milking, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Urethral Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RotherhamMan/pseuds/RotherhamMan
Summary: “I suppose you’ll have to learn by spending the next thousand years as a battery!”Ego has Peter in his clutches to power the Expansion but is still not satisfied--until he finds a way to make Peter a more efficient battery.
Relationships: Ego the Living Planet/Peter Quill
Comments: 4
Kudos: 106





	Battery

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a dark fic based on a what-if I've been thinking about since i saw the film. Loosely inspired by the short story I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.
> 
> Comments give me The Good Chemicals, please give them to me!

“I suppose you’ll have to learn by spending the next thousand years as a battery!”

Had it been anything close to a thousand years yet? Ego had sealed up the doors and windows after a while, blocking out all sense of day and night. He said he was doing it so the work wouldn’t be disturbed and that it would take years for anyone to get through into the building that had housed Peter and his friends for all of one night; long enough for Ego to sense them and destroy them. But to Peter it was a way of taking away his only reference of the passage of time. The closest thing he had to day and night now was when Ego came and went and brought a glow in the building that was an extension of his real body. When he arrived the chamber would be illuminated and when he left it would dim over the course of… Peter wasn’t sure how long.

He didn’t eat or sleep any more, he didn’t need to with the energy of the Light coursing through him around the clock. He had long since lost all sense of time. There were only so many songs and films and good memories he could review in his mind’s eye before he had to repeat himself.

He had also lost all hope. If the other Guardians had survived the expansion by being in space, even if they had spent all the time since orbiting and planning a rescue, they must surely have died of old age by now. He felt like he should have but knew he hadn’t aged a day. He remembered when Ego had told him that, just before he had found out what scum he was, and how excited he had been at the idea of being immortal. The foolishness of that moment astounded him now, that he could have thought any form of prolonged life would be a good thing. He had memorised the entire chamber, if he could leave now and tour the universe for a million years he knew he wouldn’t forget it. He hated every square inch.

Ego visited him and told him about the expansion all the time, about how the worlds were trying to defy him and survive the growth but how they were all futile attempts and doomed to fail against him. He was reminded of how Gamora had talked about Thanos and how he would talk constantly of his work and now he understood her feelings for him. She had felt fear and respect for the Titan who posed as her father, he too felt it for his own father now. And hate, he hated his father with every fibre of his being.

He remembered Rocket, his best friend who had suffered at the hands of a tormentor and never really gotten over it. He knew those scientists did terrible things to him but he would gladly trade places with him. No, that was a lie, he wouldn’t put Rocket through this to save himself but he would gladly prefer the actual torture over this hell.

It was made all the worse by his attraction to Ego. He told himself it was the Light messing with him and his self-ingrained desire for a father but he wasn’t sure anymore. Ego was the only contact he had with anyone and he wondered if he would ever forget what he had done to his mother and the rest of the universe. Would his memory last or would his mind break? He knew he was starting to show emotional strain when he felt vague pangs of loss whenever Ego left and relief as he came back what must be days later. But he hadn’t forgotten what he had done. Since he had broken his walkman he hadn’t spoken a word to Ego and vowed that he wouldn’t for as long as he could hold out with spite. Maybe he would forget how to speak all the languages he knew before he had to speak to him.

Surely his mind must be breaking by now. However long he had been there he had spent it all suspended just off the ground by Ego’s tendril of light. It had pierced his chest and held him up by that alone, somehow paralysing his body, and had kept him that way ever since. Ego sometimes mused about moving him if he was good, taking him down to the planet’s core to be alongside Ego’s true form. Peter both loved the idea of a change and loathed the idea of being any closer to his father than he had to be.

But there was one shred of comfort, something Peter took a small amount of joy in. About the time Ego had sealed up the chamber he had started complaining that the Expansion was taking longer than he had initially planned. After the initial burst of growth at Peter’s addition of energy the growth had tapered off to a gradual increase, apparently slowing to a millimetre a second. Peter had laughed himself horse at that, until tears ran down his face as his father paced about ignoring him. At that rate he worked out (it took him hours if not days to do the maths but he had the time) that it would take 1,270 years for the Earth to be consumed, assuming the Growth didn’t slow down as it got larger and the energy he proided wasn’t spread over all the planets where the Expansion was taking place.

He felt like he had gotten one over on the god-with-a-small-g, the most he could do in his state.

*

Peter must have gone through every song he knew three hundred times and was starting on the fourth. He focused on the words and did his best not to change a single note in his head. The remains of his walkman were cast aside by his feet and their music would doubtless ever be heard again. He wondered if he would still be there when the plastic started to decay. He dreaded forgetting how the songs went and with each repetition he looked for a new meaning to help him remember them.

“You must be bored of those songs by now.”

Peter didn’t look at his father. He did stop his singing though. He may not be the best singer but he had been told his voice was nice to hear and didn’t want his father hearing anything nice. He didn’t want his father to hear a single word from him but he needed the sound of music to stay sane.

He knew Ego had been leaving the planet for extended periods, watching the Expansion and making sure it all went to plan, even seeding planets more so there was more ground covered. He was gone for months, sometimes years at a time and there was no telling if he would come back in a cheerful mood at another planet consumed by him or frustrated at the lack of progress on others. Peter could sense his presence and knew when he was coming and going and sang at his loudest when he knew he was alone on the planet. He didn’t know who he was singing for, himself to stay sane, the people and planets that were dying, or if anyone was taking the opportunity of Ego’s absence to mount a rescue attempt. He doubted the last option, he hadn’t heard a single sound that wasn’t him or Ego for years.

“I know I’m bored of them,” Ego went on, strolling over to where Peter was still suspended. “They were nice for a time but I’ve grown bored of them.” He was stroking his beard in what was almost a mirror of what classic villains do but this was in genuine thought. “The Expansion is taking too long,” he said after a time, a minute or an hour, “So long as it takes time to consume planets the people could be getting away into space and surviving. I can destroy them over time but so long as they live they are an affront to life itself.”

Peter smiled as much as he could. It was barely a twitch but that was all it ever was these days. Anything that irked his father, from a rebellion to a stubbed toe brought him joy. He still said nothing.

“But,” his father went on, “I did have an idea last night. You’re a good battery, son. You’re powering the Expansion, as slow as it is, over hundreds of planets; you should be proud at how powerful you are!”

His dad was praising him, Peter would have loved that when he was younger and even now felt some twinge of something he had desperately wanted but tried to burry. He didn’t need anyone’s praise since he had become an adult, least of all his deadbeat-dad. He was being used to destroy whole planets and was being congratulated for it, it made him sick---or it would if he had anything in his stomach.

“But you aren’t as good as I need you to be, I need you to do better.” Nothing was ever good enough for the man, Peter knew that by now. It was a good thing he didn’t care or even try to please him. “I need you to give the Expansion more life, I know you can. You did it last night, don’t deny it.”

Peter blinked at him. He hadn’t done anything last night other than slip into the first doze he’d had since he had been imprisoned here. It had been nice, he had thought of Gamora and—

Shit.

He did his best to keep his face blank, to not give anything away. His father was searching his face for any sign and Peter prayed he couldn’t read him.

“What did you do?” Ego asked, not talking to him but to himself, the only one who appreciated the sound of his voice. “I don’t believe you’ve learned your lesson yet, it’s not been nearly long enough. But for some reason last night you did a better job than you have in years…” He looked Peter up and down and then thorough his brow. He sniffed. Fuck. He leaned in and sniffed at his son again. Peter hadn’t been washed since he had arrived but the Light washed over him every now and then (he was sure it was kept irregular to confuse him) but it hadn’t since last night and the smell must still be on him and his clothes.

Ego reached out and Peter tried his hardest to move his hands to fight him off but he could barely twitch. His father undid his belt and pulled it out completely and undid his leather trousers. He pulled them down to his knees and there it was for all to see---if anyone else had been there. A large, semi-dry wet patch on the front of Peter’s underwear. He screwed up his eyes and felt his face grow hot.

“Looks like you needed that,” his father laughed. “Not been laid in a while have you son?” As if he didn’t know damn well.

Ego slipped his fingers into Peter’s underwear and pulled them down. Peter’s cock and balls fell free, covered in crusted semen and a wet drop still at the end of his flaccid length. Peter opened his mouth to say something but remembered his vow of silence and clamped it shut. He starred straight ahead as his father touched lightly at the wet drop but knew his cock twitched in response to the ever-so-slight stimulation. It was the fist time anyone had touched him in ages (literally) and his cock twitched at the slight touch.

Ego raised his finger, staring at the drop of semen on it, white and thick. “You came,” he muttered, “And the Expansion increased. Only by a little but it increased all the same.”

Peter realised what his father was thinking and his gaze snapped down to him. He wouldn’t speak and he sure as fuck wouldn’t beg but he did try to plead as much as he could with his expression.

Ego took no notice. He reached out with the same hand and took Peter’s manhood in his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. Peter gasped and screwed his eyes shut as he felt himself throb against his will. The touch felt good after all this time and that it was there, where any red blooded man liked to be touched, didn’t help. He had played around with many species and many genders in his life but incest was something he had never wanted to try even if he could. 

Ego pumped his hand up and down Peter’s length and he grew hard at the feeling. He couldn’t help himself, no matter what he thought of to make himself soft. He also couldn’t help how quickly he shot off; Ego was right, it had been a while and last night had only been a small involuntary release by mental power alone. This was a full hand job and the stimulation pushed him over the edge quickly. He cried out, momentarily losing himself in the pleasure he had missed so bad without realising it. He would soon feel bad for feeling good when such terrible things were happening because of it---how much more had the Growth consumed because he was getting off?---but for this precious moment he was in ecstasy.

He felt himself shoot off and looked down to see if he had soiled his father’s pristine robes. No such luck, Ego had stepped aside and his sperm landed wetly on the floor. Looking at his father however (intending to give him his most hateful look) brought a surprise. Ego’s head was thrown back, his mouth open n a soundless ‘O’ and his eyes sparkling with the Light.

“The Expansion,” he breathed, the only thing he ever really cared about even as he molested his son. “The Expansion.”

Peter didn’t know what Ego was seeing but he saw an opportunity. He spat and the glob of spit landed perfectly in his father’s mouth. Ego blinked, brought back to earth by the act and stared at his son. Then without warning he backhanded him across the face with the hand he had jerked him off with, leaving streaks of Peter’s own sperm across his face.

“Maybe another thousand years on top of that first thousand,” he hissed and stormed off. “That leaves only one thousand eight hundred and forty to go.”

One hundred and sixty years? Peter waited until he was sure his father had left before letting himself cry. He was still hanging there with his trousers down and cock still dripping. No orgasm could distract him from the fact that he wand just been jacked off by his father and he had no doubt outlived all his friends.

Still, he thought when he had cried long enough, he had gotten a sliver of satisfaction from his revenge. One day he might regret it but right now it felt worth every second of a thousand years of torment to spit in his father’s face.

*

Peter never thought he’s come to hate his own orgasms. Once he had had his first and learned about sex, something he knew about long before he was ready living on a Ravager ship, he spent a lot of time with his hands. The Ravegers had never laid a hand on him; however much they did their best to scare him they all knew Yondu would do a hundred times worse to them whatever they did to him. That didn’t stop him from having sex with them on his own terms. He fucked and was fucked in return by a few of them and whenever they made port one or more of them would take him to the best backstreets for it. He knew the pleasure points of many species and genders almost as well as their weak points along with how to seduce most people by the time he was twenty. Not a full time sex machine of sex addict but a professional and recreational fucker.  
It was a phase he had never grown out of---until his father became his regular and only sexual partner whether he liked it or not.  
Once his father had come to learn how the Expansion increased when Peter came he had spent a lot of his time getting his son off. Peter could not have imagined anything more mortifying than regular hand jobs from his father. He had been stripped of all his clothes now but was well past his embarrassment about that. His body had been in good shape and had stayed that way, maybe becoming even leaner, and he had nothing to feel self conscious about there. His above average genitals were a matter of pride but unfortunately it gave Ego more to work with.

Ego had worn him raw, literally, at first in his eagerness to keep the Growth up and Peter had cum more times in a day than he had in most weeks even at his more active youth. Whether he actually came or had dry orgasms didn’t seem to matter but Ego complained as time went on that it was better if he came more and after a day of his father jacking him off he was bone dry and horse from yelling---but not speaking, he wasn’t that desperate.

Yelling didn’t count as talking to his father any more than singing to himself so he did that plenty until Ego shoved his own underwear into his mouth to keep him quiet. It had been so long since he had had anything to eat he had forgotten what it was like to taste. He had also come accustomed to his own smell---the Light may clean him but not his clothes---so to have his own briefs (yes, he was a briefs guy, he needed the support) that were laced with dried sweat and cum the fist thing to taste in decades was… an experience. Ego formed a band of Light around his mouth to stop him opening it to spit them out. And just like that he could speak if he wanted to or, far more importantly, sing.

He had never considered himself to be a sex pervert but now knew where he got that deviant streak that he had entertained his lovers with.

“You have an impressive set of balls,” said his father, conversationally, “But they don’t hold much, do they?”

Not when they’ve been bled dry for days, Peter thought dully. Thank fuck he could only be so hard for so long and Ego’s hand was just as prone to repetitive strain injury as a humans.

Ego gave up for the day after Peter’s third dry orgasm but this time did something different than stride off in disappointment. He sat on his chair before his son, positioned and used as if it were placed before a work of art to admire, and contemplated his son’s genitals, occasionally examining them more closely and handling them carefully as he hummed in thought. He was being appreciated like a work of art, something he had been subject to before to much delight.

Ego eventually stood. “You’re not to blame for the limitations set by your mother, I suppose.” Ego said.

Peter forgot he couldn’t speak and grunted into his gag the vilest insults he could think of. The monster had no right to even think about his mother. Everything she had given Peter had been the greatest gift and everything from his father was the worst of curses. Now his mouth was gagged he could do nothing but glare at Ego who didn’t even notice.

Maybe it would be better to go along with the whole thing willingly just so his father paid him some proper attention. Peter hated himself for the thought and shoved it away deep into his mind. Unfortunately he could not forget completely; the thought was out of the box.

It must have been two hundred years by now, surely he must be getting close to half way through this.

*

He supposed it was only a matter of time before Ego got tired of his inefficiency and set about ways to try and make him a better son---battery, he had to remember his place in life now. There wasn’t any real difference to Ego anyway. Peter wasn’t a person anymore, just an extension of himself and his plan. Peter wondered if, when Ego had destroyed all life that wasn’t him, he would finish the job and kill Peter once he had served the purpose of his birth and punished him one last time for making the Expansion take so long. He could only hope. It had been a black moment when he realised he would rather be dead than endure this any more, made worse by his inability to do anything about it. He had no choice but to live and suffer.

He wasn’t quite ready to beg for death though but there was something else he would beg for if he could speak. Ego had proved the master of patience and manipulation, his perseverance and investment in learning of the human male’s body had paid off. He had found all of Peter’s pressure points and learned how they worked and could now play him like a musical instrument.

He had started by seeing how the head of his penis became sensitive when aroused and the difference between being rough and gentle. Being rough got Peter to growl into his gag while gentle got him to whimper. Ego had stroked it with his fingers, lubed and unlubed, and concluded the experiment by taking his head into his mouth and using his tongue. Tears had rolled down Peter’s face at that, mercifully silent but not unnoticed and smirked at. His father’s tongue ran around the head and teased at the slit until he was sweating and panting through his nose. He had been made to cum---allowed was not the word now his father needed him to cum---and after a period of denial and a longer period of teasing it had been a big shot. His father smiled and Peter, in the come-down from his ejaculation, felt something funny about that smile. It was a smile of genuine satisfaction in something he had done. The whole experiment had taken a year, an orgasm a week if he was lucky. He produced bigger loads when worked up for extended periods and every orgasm was followed by continued stimulation to his oversensitive organ until he came again. The non-stop stimulation was enough to drive a man mad---he was mad, with every day he grew surer of it.

Unfortunately this experiment had been so successful that the next one had also focussed on his cock---specifically, his urethra. He had never played with it in the past---that he could remember. It had been the one part of his body even he thought should never be violated. But Ego would do anything to meet his ends and crafted an extension to his human avatar to explore it. His finger now emitted a tendril of Light, long and thin and could grow in thickness and Peter had put up more of a struggle at the sight of it than he had done in lifetimes, wide eyed and crying out as loud as he could into the underwear still in his mouth. But he was powerless to stop Ego sliding inside him and stroking along the inside of his length. Peter swore his eyes rolled so far back they turned over. Thankfully this approach may have stimulated him---eventually---but it could not bring him to a satisfactory ejaculation. Ego announced he would put that approach to one side for the time being.

His nipples were played with but they weren’t wired to his cock like other guys were. It still did something for him but not that much. They too were set aside.

Peter had long since braced himself for the exploration of his asshole but didn’t fear it, he had been fucked before. He did fear the extent of it however, when Ego disappeared behind him and barely spoke to warn him of what was coming Peter remembered the finger that had gone up his dick and shivered at the thought of how far Ego would go to stretch his limits. He couldn’t see what Ego did but he sure felt it. Ego pushed in and Peter wondered if it was his own cock or his tendril of Light and prayed it wasn’t his whole hand and arm.

He couldn’t see what Ego used in the end but hated it none-the-less. Whatever it was Peter’s prostate was found easily and exploited, pushing him over the edge simply by stimulation to it over and over non-stop. Ego liked this result but forged on to see what other secrets he was hiding. However deep he went he found nothing beyond the prostate---he spent long enough looking to be sure beyond all doubt, longer than Peter thought could ever be needed. All he found was that the thrusting motion into and out of his ass was a complimentary stimulant to the assault on his prostate and the stretching of his anal ring was crucial to this. Peter wondered if a mortal would ever be able to shit or fart normally after that but knew an immortal like himself could take anything thanks to his father’s careful but heartless attentions.

For the time being this seemed to conclude his exploration of his son’s body, finishing by running his hands all over him to see if there were any spots he’d missed. Peter dreaded what else he would one day have in store.

Must have been a decade or so of experimentation, every inch of his body had been heavily scrutinised. Ego must know him better than anyone alive or dead now. They were all dead now. He distracted himself for brief periods by remembering every place he could but the more time passed the blurrier details became and each memory was tainted by the knowledge that that place was gone now and the people dead.

He remembered a series of faces, clearer than anything else in his mind’s eye. He struggled to put names to them and reasons why they were there but he knew they were to be cherished. He sometimes thought of them when he came and the feeling he associated with them was powerful but he couldn’t remember why.

*

Ego changed the setup restraining him to make the most of him as per his conclusions as to how to stimulate his battery. Rather than hanging from the tendril of light piercing his chest he was now impaled on one, reaching deem into his ass and capable of simulating fucking. Other tendrils branched off it to reach other parts of him, two curled around his nipples and toying with them now and then but far more important were the ones on his genitals. Two curled around his balls to massage them and squeeze them, one sheathing his cock to milk him, and another inside him, all the way down to the nut sack in his balls.

All the tendrils had little feelers on them like hairs and they sought out the nerves that made him twitch and learned quickly which ones to focus on. He was sure they were worming their way into him and changing the way his bogy worked so he produced more seed. He thought his balls were bigger now, swollen and inflated from being filled to bursting point repeatedly, and his manhood was longer and thicker too.

He had come accustomed to it as he had his original position. Ego had removed the gag long ago but he hadn’t even sung since then. He could barely remember the tunes any more, just ghosts of melodies and sometimes his groans turned into them. Groaning and moaning were the only noises he could make these times, even if he was permitted to speak, which his father never seemed to think of permitting of acknowledging, he wasn’t sure he could or remembered how. But he could still understand his father when he talked to him about how he was doing a good job.

Ego had limited him to an orgasm every several hours now rather than trying to make him cum constantly. The time in-between was devoted to stimulating his body and trying to make sure the orgasms were as big as possible. He would moan and groan and cry at the attention his body was given, wanting nothing more than to cum for his father. It had become a game: he wanted to cum, the orgasms were great but he would hold out for as long as he could to make them better and to prove to his father he could resist and challenge him to do better. He couldn’t recall how it had started.

Ego smiled whenever he came though and he felt warm at the sight of approval.

Ego had changed the floor of the room into a vast depression, deep and wide and made sure that his son was suspended just above the rim so every drop of semen landed in it. Over the years it had slowly filled up the space to form a pool of his cum. Why Ego had done it wasn’t clear, he sometimes joked about his cum being special and other times said that life might one day grow in it. His grandchildren, he said, borne from a pool of Peter’s seed.

He wondered who Peter was. He had never met anyone other than his father and Ego mentioned him occasionally. Whoever this Peter was he was probably too busy or too important to visit a lowly battery such as himself.

*

The pool, more of a lake by now, was almost full by the time Ego came to him with a smile across his face and a spring in his step.

“It’s done,” he cried, his arms outstretched and shaking with joy. “I wanted to surprise you, it’s been eating me up for years as neared completion; the work is done!”

He cocked his head to one side. The work? He wasn’t sure quite what that was. Ego talked to him about it all the time and it was clearly important to him but what it meant to him was just out of reach. He thought that was the reason he stayed silent and produced for him, if it was done could he talk again?

Ego was still talking, “I was going to keep you in until your punishment was over but an early release is in order for all that you’ve done for me my boy! It was only a year or two away, anyway.”

He was being punished? Had he done something wrong? He had done nothing as far as he knew but orgasm for his father into the pool as often as he could as he and his father wanted; how was he being punished? His father seemed so happy with him so whatever he had done must be nothing too bad.

Ego waved his hand and the tendrils of light were gone. He fell to the floor in a heap by the lake of seed and stayed there in shock and confusion. The feelings were gone. It was like his whole body had been turned off and even the pain of falling to the floor couldn’t make up for it. He cried out in pain at the loss; he knew now he was being punished. He stared ahead in shock, looking at but not really seeing a pile of broken plastic on the floor right in front of him. He had vague memories of seeing it before but it had been out of his line of sight from hanging over the pool.

His body was unresponsive, he had no memory of ever moving them more than a twitch he barely remembered using his body. There was only muscle memory buried deep in his brain and the vaguest memory of using them, as if he hadn’t always been in the embrace of his father’s light. Nevertheless he struggled to get up as his father came to stand next to him. He made it to his knees and looked up at Ego, smiling down at him. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg for the feelings to come back, but he croaked out a noise that he knew wasn’t speech. He hadn’t spoken to his father in… ever? He was sure it hadn’t always been like this and that he used to be able to do more than this, used to be able to do it easily, but this was all so unfamiliar to him now. He screwed up his face in frustration and made a moan of distress.

He felt a hand in his hair and looked up through watery eyes at Ego, looking down on him with pity. “I am sorry to reduce you to this, my son, but it was necessary to teach you how to be my son and how to be a god beside me.”

So he hadn’t been a good son, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the feeling of his father running his hands through his hair. He was ready to be a good son now, whatever he had done to upset his father he would never do it again. He would do everything asked of him and maybe his father would let him feel again.

There was a clucking noise above him and he opened his eyes to see his father looking down disapprovingly. He too looked down and saw he had cum again without noticing all over his father’s trousers and feet.

A memory stirred in the deepest part of his mind; he had once wanted this, to cum on his father as a means to anger him. Was this what he had done to upset him? He looked up quickly, unable to speak properly but able to make a noise of distress and produce more tears of fear and sadness, pleading with every none verbal way he could for his father’s forgiveness.

Ego was looking at him with pity again and shook his head. “I hope you understand that I had to reduce you to this in order to remake you as my son. You are now little better than a beast: grunting and cumming on everything that moves. But I can make you a god beside me. It will take time but I am patient, and,” he chuckled, “It’s not like we are going to be disturbed.”

He ran his hand down from his son’s hair to his cheek and cupped it. He came again, feeling it this time along with the ghost of the feelings he missed and he felt more tears as they faded away all too quickly. He was making more mess on his father but neither seemed to care.

“You miss it, don’t you?” Ego said, fingers lightly caressing his chin and tilting his head up to look into his son’s eyes. “I knew you would come to see it as the norm. I even worried that its loss would drive you mad---but I know you are made of stronger stuff than that, my boy.”

He felt a wave of pride and smiled as it was accompanied by another wave of pleasure. Another orgasm, weaker than the ones before now he was without feeling, tore from him.

“I will make you feel good again,” said his father as if he read his mind. He probably could, he was God after all. “I will give it to you as you earn it, like a good boy. Would you like that.”

He nodded eagerly, still not sure how to make more than choked noises. He longed to express just how hard he would work for that feeling and his father’s approval.

“Good.” Ego unbuckled his trousers and released his own manhood---godhood---to his son. He had never seen it but it was just as beautiful as the rest of him. Ego stepped forward and it brushed at his lips. “This is how you start,” he breathed, “By showing your father how grateful you are for creating you.”

He had never done this, it was new to him but he knew what was expected. He opened wide to let his father’s length into his mouth. He wondered if he could please him as well as his father’s light had please him and did his best to do so. He couldn’t take much in, choking as he felt the tip touch the back of his throat, but he lapped at it with his tongue. He reached up with shaking hands and fumbled his way up to caress his father’s balls as he himself liked. His fingers were so limited but he stroked them as best he could as he bobbed up and down.

He looked up through his eyelashes to see if he was making his God happy and was pleased to see Ego’s own eyes closed in pleasure with a smile on his face.

Ego came into his mouth and he choked on that too before swallowing down as much as he could. He felt some dribble out of his mouth and onto his bare chest and cursed himself for letting it go to waste. His father had caught all of his seed in a pool and he couldn’t even catch some in his mouth when it was shot straight into it? As soon as he was done cleaning the last drops from the splendid source he scooped up as much as he could of himself and lapped it up, hoping if he did it quickly enough his father would be too upset.

He heard a chuckle above him and another pat on the head. “Good effort, son, you made me proud.”

That was all he needed to cum again. It was smaller still than the others, though good they weren’t satisfying him as much as before. Ego took pity on him and waved his hand. Instantly he felt the pleasure inside him and his balls fully emptied with a true orgasm. He cried out in pleasure and gratitude at his father’s blessing. He made his father cum and he was rewarded by being allowed to cum in return.

Truly his father was a kind and merciful God.

As he slumped there before his father he felt his hands on him. Ego scooped him up easily and cradled his not-inconsiderable form to his chest as he strolled out of the room. Peter clung to his father as he was taken from the chamber he had spent so long in, looking over his shoulder to see the pool of his seed disappear from view. He peeked out from his father’s chest to see parts of the world he had forgotten existed, halls and more rooms much smaller than the one he called home.

Ego brought him to a large room that was dominated by a large bed, he recognised it as something he had once used for lying down but when he was gently lain upon it he was surprised by how soft it was. He almost panicked as he practically sank into it and clutched at his father’s hand. He chuckled as he left him there to strip off his clothes. He watched his father reveal his flesh and marvelled at it, strong and powerful like him but clearly superior.

Ego climbed onto the bed and pulled him close. He curled up in his father’s embrace, feeling so safe and warm tucked into his chest, revelling at the skin-to-skin contact. His father stroked lightly up and down his back and he shuddered as he came again onto his father and the sheets.

Ego chuckled. “guess I’m going to have to get used to your hair trigger.” He hugged his son close. “I’ll teach you to control it. I’ll teach you to do everything but for now, sleep.”

He didn’t know it but the man once known as Peter Quill, Star-Lord, hadn’t truly slept in a little over a thousand years. He and his father were the only two forms of life in the whole galaxy and neither really needed sleep. Peter slept into a slumber easily though and slept deep and long, his father staying awake and stroking his boy through the many nights it took to make up for a thousand years of wakefulness. Peter came more times in his sleep, shuddering and smiling and dreamed of people and faces buried deep in his mind, not realising they were anything more than figments of his imagination. Even then he wouldn’t remember them when he woke.

He didn’t even know his own name, didn’t think he had one, or anything about the universe beyond his small scope. The universe that was practically nothing but his father. He and his father were now all there was, God and his Adam as his devoted son. Ego had plans for him, big plans to make his son as powerful as him to dominate together and rebuild life in their image from the pool of Peter’s seed as the new cradle from which all life would spring. They could control it all, make sure this new universe wasn’t a disappointment like the last one. So long as Peter could produce more seed so they, together, could sire whole worlds to worship them.

But none would worship Ego as Peter did. His Star-Lord, as Ego decided he would be called, would be his equal in every respect but still follow him as a good son and please him as a grateful creation. Ego closed his eyes and pictured his eyes and saw, with perfect vision, their future.

For a while he slept too, and in that palace on the surface of God, the two lay dreaming in their divine embrace.


End file.
